Tag Archives: genetic mutation

I woke up this morning thinking about my mom and everything she’s given to me. She gave me heart-shaped chocolate cakes every year on my birthday. She gave me hand-sewn Halloween costumes, from the Little Mermaid to Marilyn Monroe. She gave me Harry Potter books, shipped to me at summer camp on the day they came out.

She gave me a love for painting and a thirst for writing. She gave me the drive to make everything I do just a bit more special. She gave me confidence.

She gave me blue eyes. She gave me hips. She gave me big feet.

She gave me a BRCA gene mutation.

“I have always wanted to give you everything and it makes me sick that i gave you something so awful without even knowing it. i love u babe.”

That was the text my mom sent me on October 25, 2011, after I told her over the phone that I had tested positive for the BRCA mutation. We had gone out to lunch earlier that day; I knew the results during lunch, but I couldn’t muster the courage to tell her. So I waited until that evening.

I guess she was right; she did give me “something so awful.” But she didn’t intentionally give it to me…she didn’t handpick my genes. It just happened.

And you know what? Whatever. It’s awful, she’s right, but in a way…it’s not.

She gave me a BRCA gene mutation, because one of her parents gave it to her. But by testing for the mutation and sharing her results with me, she gave me an extra shot at life, too.

Without her positive test result, I would have never heard of the BRCA genes, and I would have never been tested. What could that have meant for me in the future? Well, my mother has had breast cancer twice because of her BRCA mutation, so you do the math.

She gave me a BRCA gene mutation, but she also gave me the ability to control something about my future.

It’s Mother’s Day, and I feel fortunate to have such a wonderful mother. I love to see the universal appreciation for moms. Moms are awesome.

I hope that no other BRCA-positive (or genetic mutation-positive) mothers ever feel guilty the way my mom did when she found out about my mutation. It was heartbreaking to read that text, to know that my mom felt as if she had done something to hurt me. My mom has given me and continues to give me so much–surely this one hiccup could do nothing to diminish a lifetime of love.

Like this:

Hi, I'm Rachel, your average twentysomething. I'm in a sorority, I just graduated from college and started my first full-time job, and oh yeah, I recently had a double mastectomy! Welcome to my world of BRCA genes, plastic surgery, and snap-in-front bras.

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